Story of a bipolar drifter

I’m crossing you in style some day
Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker
Wherever you’re goin’, I’m goin’ your way
Two drifters, off to see the world
There’s such a lot of world to see
We’re after the same rainbow’s end, waitin’ ’round the bend
My huckleberry friend, moon river, and me.Audrey Hepburn see
We’re after the same rainbow’s end, waitin’ ’round the bend
My huckleberry friend, moon river, and me.

Audrey Hepburn

I have been always a drifter. Not only my soul wandered, but my steps were yanked in this world, curious and adventurous, disregarding the risk taken by leaving my confortable, secure life.

Mostly alone on the journey, I saw people coming and going, teaching me lessons, preparing me for all the mistakes I was going to make and showing me a way to enjoy happiness then gracefully let go of whatever belongs to me no more.

I have rained many rains inside of me, as well I have blossomed and ascended from the most lamentable circumstances.
Only God knows how many nights I have been awaken in dark, empty rooms, listening to cars bringing their people to rest, following the glimses of light, staring into the depth of my core, asking ” Where am I heading to?”.

It was never easy, you know.
Being a tourist in your own life, sleeping on the bench of hope only to wake up starved and drained.

Some new elements emmerged as well in my psychological structure. I have become accustomed with people being ruthless and shallow, with not spending enough time with my family or build memories with the people I enjoy being with.

I have buried parts of me in order to survive a world that will not accept me as an unconventional person. At times, I find myself digging to bring them back to the surface.

I am a dissenter at heart and while I have taught myself discipline, I sometimes have these dreams that I am flying over the top of the hills. I feel the fresh breeze playing in my hair, mesmerising my skin. The sunrise feels silky, melting the dew, slowly striking the depth of the woodland.

It is always the same dream, releasing me from the golden cage I am trapped in. It feels vivid, leaving my forehead sweating and my whole body in a continuous beat.

I wake up with the same questions and while I wait on the side of the bed, I feel this knot in my throath. Whatever is left unsaid, hunts every drawer of the brain, touches every organ, swims through the whole body, and roots itself in a place where it can be felt and reminded of.

These days start with me walking numb and bearly pay attention to the wonders of the world. My brain feels dull, releasing dusky thoughts, while my heart mutters about the hurricaine of emotions.

Sometimes, I manage to make myself aware of all these stages and try to bring my attention to the present.
I close my eyes and try talking to God in my thoughts. I feel that behind my eyelids, I can always find this loving light that burns away my despair.

I wake up on my left side, and it feels like my whole body is sunk in a pleasant, foamy texture. I gaze at the walls as if they will soon reveal a world that I have never known, but always heard of it as being wonderful.

This is how I live: drifting between worlds, searching and only think that I have found, asking only for more questions to arise, denying what I am only to become more of that…

My Red Book

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